


a daughter, golden,

by casualbird



Series: gilbert week 2020 [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Magic, Parenthood, Regret, gilbert week 2020, probably too many italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25877011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualbird/pseuds/casualbird
Summary: Annette, he'd realized, had always been an alchemist. An experimenter, intrepid, breaking new ground with childish abandon, as if all the world was a delight.Gilbert discovers the art of learning from his child.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic & Gilbert Pronislav
Series: gilbert week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877788
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: Gilbert Week 2020





	a daughter, golden,

_i have a daughter, golden,  
beautiful, like a flower_

* * *

He’d always remember the day his girl became a mage—the confetti-cracker smile on her face, the way that little gust of wind ruffled her hair. Like a pat on the head from the Goddess herself.

The pride was such a heady thing. _His_ child, making something from nothing, dipping her fingers into the inner clockwork of the world and rummaging around. He had given it quite some effort in school himself, with pipe-dreams of a holy knight's gleaming plate, but...

He was too obtuse, it seemed, to slip very far into the ether. Broad hands fumbled, oxen shoulders simply proved better for upholding what'd already been built. A shield of a man.

So. No matter how many times she'd shown him, no matter the time, no matter the crush of his business, he watched in awe as little Annette changed the world, as casual and eager as other children would toss a ball.

And he'd always think of that first time, the way her cheeks dimpled, the exact timbre of her laugh when she'd first come to realize what potential she'd had.

But it _wasn't_ the first, not in the grand scheme, not after he'd held it like an old locket, pondered it so intently.

Annette, he'd realized, had always been an alchemist. An experimenter, intrepid, breaking new ground with childish abandon, as if all the world was a delight. She _changed_ things, ever since she was small.

A rainy afternoon became a festival, a midday meal her operatic stage. One look at her, clinging to his calf, could send a fortnight of exhaustion out with the wash, put the stalwart set back in his jaw.

And her _face --_ he'd always been rough-edged, hard-lined, a countenance hauled out of a quarry. Somehow, though, his girl took this blood and turned it on its ear. She was a meadow of marigolds on a summer morning, and every bee zipping between the blooms.

Gilbert had held onto that, even after. Even when he was the farthest he could possibly be from deserving it. This little child, sprightly and bright, a force of nature as sweet as the year’s first gentle flurry.

It was paramount, he'd repeat to himself, _all-important_ that he not take that verve, that alchemy away. Not taint that with the brutish world, nor the part he had in it.

To keep his dishonor from bleeding into her, into her mother... there was only one solution.

Was it right? Never, but Duscur built a new status quo on the back of rage and shame and fear, and Gilbert had never been taught how to go about shifting paradigms.

He recollected, once, having read a book on the raising up of children. How to guide them on a proper path, make them safe and strong. There was a passage he'd always come back to _\-- Learn, always, from your children._

He'd not understood it until the time was past, until he'd buckled under all the weight, sent rubble raining on his family, his home, his motherland.

After that, he'd wished so dearly that he could have, before he'd confounded everything.

Everything, it seemed, but _her..._ After so long -- he'd always wondered if she'd be recognizable, if their paths ever crossed again. And she was, she was every bit the glowing, gifted soul she'd been, growing more into her potential with every passing day. She'd sobered, certainly ... certainly he had bent her.

But when she spoke to her beloved Professor, her friends; when she sang; when she glittered, flush with new discoveries -- her sunshine was the same. She'd never lost that _verve._

Gilbert marveled, the way she always made him. _I could never,_ he'd think, time and again, _I could never be this brave._

He had no right to it, he knew, but then as ever there was no stifling his pride in her.

**Author's Note:**

> gilbert does not, strictly speaking, _deserve_ a daughter as volatile and vibrant as annette, but here he is.
> 
> i hope you enjoyed this! please let me know if you did--any and all feedback is much appreciated! and, if you are 18+ and can tolerate my abiding fascination with gilbert, my twitter is [here!](https://twitter.com/bird_scribbles)
> 
> epigraph and title are from the a. s. kline translation of sappho.


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